


The Holy Hound

by Fanlan



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Animal abuse implied, Aziraphale adopts a hell hound, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hell is bad, M/M, blood and violence mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanlan/pseuds/Fanlan
Summary: Aziraphale makes the foolish decision of saving a hell hound from being killed by hell and now must find what to do with the creature.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	The Holy Hound

If Aziraphale were to be honest, a lot of things escaped his grasp of things and slipped through the cracks. It wasn’t that he wasn’t observant, it was just so much happened among the humans on a day to day basis it wasn’t always easy to distinguish what was pertinent matter he should step in for and what was merely humans being, well, humans. There was only so much one could do in a day, so many miracles heaven appointed him, so much free time between blending in among the humans with his shop and taxes and all matter of human necessities (and they were essential, he would not hear another word of his superiors calling them ‘indulgences’); some tragedies he had to chalk up to Her divine will and call it a day.

He could not, however, ignore such a strong and unfamiliar demonic presence radiating so close to his home. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was inconsequential information or not to note it was the dead of night, the dead of night after a particularly nasty rainstorm and no one was out in the streets of Soho except him. During all his training, it was drilled into his head demon’s only lurk at night, something Crowley wasn’t fond of. He rather preferred tempting in broad day light, always saying with a wink there were more possibilities for tempts when people were out and about and had other more pertinent matters to attend to. Aziraphale rather agreed with that notion, he had more luck with tempts during the day as well and it was ironic there were always more possibilities for miracles at the dead of night. Maybe Heaven and Hell were too bound to their own biases to realize that themselves.

That wasn’t why Aziraphale had been out, he had a strong desire for hot chocolate at the lovely café that stayed open till midnight a block away but that wasn’t the point of the matter. The point was he sensed a dark presence and even stronger aura of suffering looming from a half demolished old building that had once been a large schoolhouse before it had burned last month. It had been a lucky chance he had been in the area to make sure miraculously none of the staff inside at the time were so much as scratched during the blaze. He felt a smug grin settle at his handy work that day forcing open the charred door and stepping into the charred remains that had once been a hall soundlessly, light as a feather and unable to be detected.

“Lousy garbage,” he heard someone, or should he even give such evil the dignity of being given individuality? It was rather just a faceless force of cruelty that never questioned it.

“What bloody good are ya?!” there was a loud strike echoed through the barren halls. A roosting owl began hooting in irritation before soaring through a large caved in rotted wood that had once been part of the ceiling. Aziraphale sighed in frustration, he didn’t want to give his presence up so willingly, so he couldn’t just will the wood out of the way. Instead, he had to shift it out of his path as silently as could without his ethereal power. 

Blast, Aziraphale thought with a huff maneuvering himself through the rubble enough to see the shadowed outline of the demon looming ahead. There was low whimpering that made Aziraphale’s heart clench and helped make his resolve to keep going despite his lack of preparation. He took a quick glance around and patted uselessly at his pockets, he didn’t have a single weapon on himself to deal with this problem! Really now, how could he have been this ill prepared?!

He found nothing on his person except a well used and worn ink pen. He gripped the metal handle tightly, he really couldn’t expect to vanquish evil with his writing utensil, could he? He knew the old saying of the pen being mightier than the sword well as did any scholar, but he had also bore witness to exactly why that saying was incorrect. That poor lad did not last long in his duel, poets may be able to match anyone with the might of words, but his words didn’t save him from an overconfident drunk with an actual weapon.

“I practically give ya a weak-willed soul on a silver platter and ya just turn tail like the coward ya are!”

He felt the suffering and ground his teeth feeling the poor creature down the hall’s pain. Aziraphale took a deep breath to focus, he could practically taste the blood of the poor thing on his own tongue. He had always been too acute to the suffering of others and it always landed him into trouble if he didn’t concentrate, focus on his own aura and not theirs.

The pen would have to do, he decided all at once. It was all he had and he wasn’t leaving this soul here to suffer, he sent a blessing and a prayer into the very ink, making the metal glow in holy light.

Aziraphale unleashed his wings and let his true form peak through in thousands of eyes opening wide and glowing around him.

The demon, no, not a true demon like Crowley by any means, just an imp. A troll like creature who would only pass as human if you just accepted the green scaled skin as a particularly bad skin disorder and maybe considered it a dwarf, snapped his head towards the door, his single eye squinted in annoyance at Aziraphale. In its clawed hands it gripped a whip slick with bright blood.

“I ain’t breaking any rules and it goes against a few treaties to smite me without paperwork, pretty bird,” the imp scowled petulantly stepping away from the cowering form on the ground, it was all fur and blood.

“Torture isn’t permitted here,” Aziraphale boomed, his voice blaring and making the imp drop his weapon and clasp his ears tightly, “This is not Hell.”

“A matter of opinion pretty bird,” the imp chuckled eying Aziraphale up and down, if he had been a more powerful demon Aziraphale might have worried about the lustful glance but as it stood, even without any weapon, an imp was unlikely to get the upper hand on a principality.

“But you want me disobedient mutt, you got him, take him out of ‘is misery like the good little angel ya are.”

Aziraphale glared towards the demon as he strode towards the mound of bleeding flesh and whimpers and moans, he crouched down beside the creature and slowly put his hand out only to immediately yank it back as the creature became a flurry of growls and snapping teeth. A green ooze slobbered from its gums and one drop against Aziraphale’s outstretched hand burned into him like acid. He didn’t show weakness before the chuckling imp, but the searing flesh made him internally wince. Only one creature could harm an angel like that, a hell hound.

“Come on sweetheart,” the imp crooned, “Put it out of its misery. Do yer angelic duty. Show me how dangerous ye really are.”

“Leave this place,” Aziraphale warned, his voice booming once more making the imp’s smile disappear as he once more fell to the ground grasping his ears in annoyance.

“Alright, alright sweetheart, I’m gone,” he grumbled, “Let ya do yer job in peace. That hound was to be put down anyway, don’t have much use for it.”

The imp stayed a moment, eying the angel once more, but a glare from a thousand righteous eyes had him disappearing into a puff of smoke, back down to hell where he belonged.

Aziraphale knew he should just end the creature’s misery, hell hounds were nothing but hate, no good would come of such creatures. Yet, its pitiful state brought out nothing short of pity.

Just add taking a hell hound home to the long list of things Heaven would not approve of Aziraphale doing.


End file.
